I had too much homework to go hiking this weekend, so I'm hiking vicariously through this blog post. Brad and I hiked Sugarloaf Keyser Run Trail last Sunday. It's a Take 2 on this trail because last time we tried to hike it, we couldn't charm the very grumpy rattlesnake that blocked our path.
This time on Sugarloaf/Keyser Road, we didn't run into any wildlife, but we did have some pretty wild conversations on our little 5-mile trek.
Conversation 1
Context...we saw bear poop on the trail and started talking about bears.
Aim: "Brad, how do bears know when it's been a particularly long winter?"
Brad: "They just know."
Aim: "But wouldn't they have to, like, wake up and see that it's nice out?"
Brad: "No, they just know."
Aim: "No...they gotta wake up, have a pow-wow or something."
Brad: "Yeah, OK, they go to a bar and talk about the weather."
Aim: "Maybe they DO have a bar!!!!"
Brad: "And it's stocked full of mountain water and trout."
Aim: "Minus the trout, sounds like a good bar. What do they call it?"
Brad. "A beary good bar."
Conversation 2
Context...I wondered what Rex's accent would be like after a friend of mine said Rex looked regal.
Aim: "Emily said The Poops was regal."
Brad: "I'm a stupid infantryman who doesn't know what regal means."
Aim: "A stupid infantryman but you answer all the questions right on Jeopardy? It means royalty."
Brad: "Why couldn't you just say that?"
Aim: "Shut up, Brad. What kind of accent would The Poops have if he could talk?"
Brad: "He's from the 7-0-4, he'd be hood."
Aim: "No he doesn't have a hood walk. He walks all proper and shit because he's regal, so maybe he sounds British?"
Brad: "No, he sounds hood."
Aim: "I bet he has a Southern accent. Do you think The Poops has a Southern accent?"
Brad: "Watch out, SNAKE!"
Aim: *SCREAMS* "I hate you. That's a stick."
Last week, Brad and I ventured into Shenandoah National Park sans Poopy McPoopington. :( He's our buddy, so we miss him when he can't join us.
You see, our dear sweet slightly stupid dog decided on Friday that his bed looked delicious, and while I was at work, he dined on one of his favorite delicacy's: stuffing. No, not the Thanksgiving kind. The rip open a kid's Teddy Bear kind. Don't ask why. He's Rex. It's the reason for/answer to any weird thing that he does.
Anyways, 15 puking episodes and an emergency x-ray later, we discovered that exploratory surgery was not in Rex's future, and he was on the mend. Because of dehydration, though, we had to leave Rex at home while we hiked without him. The look he gave us when he realized the backpacks were out, and he wasn't going with us broke my heart.
Side note: new bed has no stuffing, so we knew that wouldn't be an issue when we left him.
Shenandoah National Park is and has always been our happy place, but it's just more fun when we can share it with Rex.
Our destination for the day? A 5-mile waterfall hike. Rose River Falls with a side-trip to Dark Hallow Falls is an old favorite. The hike is not strenuous. There's an abundance of wildlife: On one trip we saw 6 different black bears. The views are stunning, and there's some history along the way--an abandoned copper mine.
The recent snow has been favorable to the rushing streams and flowing waterfalls of Shenandoah National Park, but the water was damn cold. This meant that we rock/log-hopped across creeks and rivers with extreme caution, and for the first time ever, I managed to not fall in. *pats self on back*
Falling into knee-deep snow, though, was a whole other story. For the first time in two years, we had to break out the microspikes, which is a device you attach to your shoe for traction in ice and snow.
Overall, a great day...a great hike, but we missed our favorite four-legged hiking buddy who was very, very happy to see us when we returned home.
Almost every time I watch Grey's or some other equally awesome ABC drama (Nashville, Revenge, etc.), I make a mental note of what my life soundtrack would be.
Say some crazy director decided my life was so exciting that it just had to be made into a summer blockbust starring a couple of B-rate actors. Well, maybe a couple of RomCom champs would volunteer to portray my non-husband and me. It is my fantasy after all.
Ryan Gosling would OBVIOUSLY want to be Brad. Who wouldn't want to be Brad? Just ask Brad. ;)
Me? I vote Rachel McAdams. It'd be like The Notebook 2.0.
So let's play with this hypothetical...
Free-spirited college student who is a caretaker for her sick mom while her significant other is deployed to Afghanistan as a combat infantryman. When he gets home, she's changed, he's changed, and these familiar strangers are on a journey to find their new normal, which is made easier by their neurotic but lovable pup.
It sounds like a compilation of Nicholas Sparks books, but it's not. Or maybe it is? You tell me.
These moments they defined me then, but my identity anymore is no longer wrapped up in being the cancer survivor's daughter or the infantryman's girlfriend. What I experienced three years ago was not tragic. What I experienced, I realize now, was nothing more than experience itself.
Personal and painful, but not tragic.
Life is life, and I'm just me. The girl who hopped a train from DC to LA to figure things out with a pen and a piece of paper.
I may spend too much money on adventures. And anymore my honesty is often perceived as harshness, and I semi-frequently overwork myself into pissy fits, but I'm proud of the life I've created for myself. I love life. I love the people in the life. What more could I ask for?
So, I'm back to my point. What music would supplement this story? My story?
"Thistle and Weeds"
Plant your hope with good seed is a phrase that I could see on a sign in the home goods section of T.J. Maxx. I love the sentiment and the optimism. The lyrics to this song got me through some really tough times.
"Set Fire to the Third Bar"
This song was used in the Dear John film for a reason. It's relatable. Like Savannah and John, Brad and I fell hard and quick, and when everything seemed to be going along smoothly, war happened. And that separation is just as mental as it is physical.
"Hopeless Wanderer"
"Be where you're at," is a piece of advice my uncle gave me recently. I've always tried to find home--a place--and I've realized in the past few months that for me home is, in fact, a person.
"Home"
I'm lucky enough to have a best friend who is my partner. I can picture my life with him 30, 40 years from now. He's not afraid to hurt my feelings, and when I call him a smug arrogant bastard he knows it's out of love, frustration-inspired love but love none the less.
That was that chapter. But now, I'm onto something new, we're onto something new.
Brad's officially out of the Army. March 6, 2013. I can't believe I'm saying that. I still feel like I'm going to jinx something. Now he's just a dysfunctional veteran that finds peace in nature. And I'm a soon-to-be communications consultant in an absolute panic over no homework and no lectures. More time for nature?
It's a new chapter in a familiar setting. To Be Continued is exhilarating and scary but beautiful.
But enough about me...what would your life soundtrack be?
Apparently, Mother Nature didn't get the memo that it's March. Or maybe she did, and it got lost in her inbox because...
So the glitch is...snow
Brad Blizzard...not the Dairy Queen kind
Aim Blizzard...not the Dairy Queen kind
I'm glad I invested in some really cool hats from Plato's Closet. I mean, if I can't be tan might as well be the best hipster fashionista I can possibly be.
It's my last "Spring" Break at JMU, and I'm snowed-in in Harrisonburg...but that's okay. You don't get the chance to play in 6-8" of snow at 2AM every day. :)
The wind is really blowing now. Glad I got this blog post up before the power goes out because, let's be honest, it's probably going to go out.
Headlamps are at the ready, though, and there is plenty to read and plenty to eat.
If I get 200 views on my blog today, I'll post an additional five Winter Wonderland pics, so please feel free to share.
The heater jolts to life because the temperature dropped below seventy-two.
It doesn’t disturb the dog but startles me. Every. Damn. Time.
The intermittent cars whiz by the dark turn outside of my apartment building.
I can hear Rex breathing through his cold black nose. I can hear Brad stumble to the bathroom. I can hear the black coffee fill my “Peace. Love. Books” mug. Mudslide k-cup with soy and Splenda.
The busy Macbook on my lap gives me warmth, as does the blanket plugged into the outlet next to me.
I get lost in the moment: I edit a picture, 12 minutes. I type up a blog post, 23 minutes. I get lost in a memory…
Reading Facebook posts about a woman who is now with the stars.
In a grey Jeep Cherokee with a familiar stranger home from war. “You look great,” he says quietly.
Full-time job offer. Graduation plans. E-mail to Grandma.
Before I know it, it’s 4AM. My body is tired, but my mind is wired. This is peace.
---
I was recently inspired by a friend to write poetry again. Thanks, Em. This piece came to me because of her tweet about an all-nighter that she just pulled. Silly girl. ;)
In my warm bed last night, reading the first chapter of The Happiness Project...at 1:12AM, I thought about what makes me happy about 4.I love 4AM.
I get that this is not a typical blog post, but 4AM is a personal journey for me, which I can only experience when my mind wins out over my body. It's a beautiful moment of peace and quiet and really is a journey of sorts.
I wasn't holding the keys to a brand new Chevrolet but to one with almost 100k miles on it...the truck Brad paid for in cash when he got home from Afghanistan. It's the truck that brought The Poops home. And the one that never transported The Poops again.
"I have leather interior. And my windows...they DON'T roll down..." Excuses.
Brad's stark white pavement princess is now accented with a beautiful reddish brown.
Muddin' when you leave off the "g,"has a certain air to it. A backwoods air. It brings to mind a blue collar job, a cold beer or several to celebrate the weekend, and a pretty woman in the passenger seat in cut off jeans. I'll say this right now, it was too damn cold for cut off jeans yesterday.
On a cabin-fever-inspired Sunday Drive, Brad and I took off for Reddish Knob to see the 360 degree views that we heard about.
We almost made it to the top.
But our guts told us to turn around. One lane roads covered in ice flanked by steep fiery plunges to imminent death just didn't set right with us. That's a picture from a safe-zone by the way. It was worse.
Ice, though, is how we discovered Plan B. The road less traveled by...the one with the mud...
Brad did the mud loop two or three times. He channeled his inner Tim-the-Tool-Man-Taylor. Manly man, arr arr arr.
And I giggled. Talk about stereotypes. Video is a video of a video...so not my greatest work. Technical difficulties.
When I thought we were finished this fun game, I asked Brad if I could drive. He said no and blamed "no one to call if we get stuck" and "no spare tire." I let it go. I was having too much fun to make something out of nothing.
He continued driving, away from the mud, and then he turned around to head back to the muddin' pit. He put the truck in park and got out. "Now I'm going to tell you what to do, you gotta listen to me."
"Hug the edge by that tree." and "Don't let off the gas when you're driving through the puddle." "This is important." I was a good student. I listened. I followed instructions.
When I arrived at the "finish line" after a gloriously (and very short) bumpy trip through the mud, I stepped on the brake and unbuckled my seatbelt.
A curious Brad asked, "Aren't you gonna go again?"
But I was good. I didn't want to press my luck. I once drove a car at 108 mph and got away with it, and more recently, I didn't get Brad's truck (or us) stuck in the middle of nowhere with less-than-desirable cell phone service.
I'd rather keep an undefeated record than push the boundaries of good taste.
and I was going out to lunch with two of my favorite people, my neighbor Emily and my boss Kathy. It just so happened that Emily was randomly chosen to be Kathy's teaching assistant this semester. Long story short, we're one big happy family.
A wishing fountain filled with coins, women in skirts and sneakers serving lunch in old-order bonnets, a counter lined with pies and cakes.
Thanks to the women of Dayton, we, three (Kathy, Emily, and me), dined on a very moderately priced Mennonite feast served cafeteria style.
Feast is not an understatement either. With several main courses and over 25 sides to choose from, I had some decisions to make.
Instead of being jealous of Emily's meal, I ordered the same thing that she did: a generous helping of green beans, an overflowing bowl of scalloped potatoes, a large spoonful of watergate salad, and a big ol' homemade cornbread muffin. The squash casserole looked good, but I figured I could just get it next time I came to Thomas House. Oh, trust me, there will be a next time...soon, too.
And can't forget! Kathy graciously let me try one of her beets. Verdict? I like beets.
Other side options included: mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and many more (x 18 mores to be exact).
The wood paneling and China plates hanging on the Thomas House walls added to its quaint Southern charm. The post-Valentine's Day spirit in the restaurant was fading. The roses were wilted, and the balloons were deflated, but this place had plenty of character without those things. Poultry workers, painters, retired women, a mentor and her two mentees chatting about what the next chapter in the book of life might hold.
It was a lunch surrounded by the hardworking people of this gorgeous valley (minus the Poultry plants...one across the street), and it was beautiful because well...on top of everything else, it was Friday and I was spending a beautiful Friday with two most beautiful people.
Schedule a meal at Thomas House soon. Your stomach will thank me. Here are directions.
Caramel Macchiato. Cookie Mint. Vanilla Vanilla. Red Velvet. Banana Cream. Dreamsicle. Buttered Rum. Raspberry Merlot. Chocolate Overload. If you're as overwhelmed as I am right now, keep calm.
Hop in your car, drive 3 miles east of Harrisonburg, and indulge in a box of cupcakes from Cupcake Company. But before you do, make sure this hidden gem is open.
My boss bought me four cupcakes on our way home from a photoshoot. Don't worry, I'm not a model.
I limited myself to one cupcake a day over the course of two days. It was torture. What was more torturous, though? Having to share half of the contents of my 4-cupcake box with my boyfriend. Sigh. Heavy sigh. Eyes welling with tears. It was awful. I can't talk about it.
I should have eaten the whole box on my way home from work, but then I would have had to go running for two hours, and let's be honest here. I hate running.
My Cupcakes
Day 1
Vanilla Caramel Macchiato. It's like if Starbucks and Betty Crocker had a love child. Delicious golden cake with a slight espresso flavor topped with a deliciously light caramel buttercream icing. Drizzled with a touch of caramel and topped with chocolate sprinkles.
Are you in your car yet? Don't read this and drive...it's not safe.
Day 2
Red Velvet. Luscious red velvet cake topped with a smooth and sweet cream cheese icing. The fondant heart would have melted my heart had my senses not been so consumed with the pure heaven I surrendered my tastebuds to.
The one who shall not be named hogged the Cookie Mint and Vanilla Vanilla (left side of first photo). I would blog about them, too, but he robbed me of that privilege.
Oh well, I guess that means I just have to drive on back over and get me some more cupcakes. I could even bring friends. Emily Romito and Shauna Prentice, I'm talking specifically to you.
Big news ahead. :)
Maybe I should start a Cupcake Company car pool from JMU? Charge my classmates in cupcakes??!!!! But wait...
